and the soda water and the anchovies,
you know I am so impressed
with what you learned in Spain,

my parents were just in Europe too
my dad took a picture
next to a bomb in berlin,

gigantic, horrifying,
I did not even know before then
that he had lived in Germany,

oh and I saw my grandmother
a few months ago,
I know you always loved her,

her red hair, and how
we got to see her in the past
by listening to one small story at a time,

like peeking through the eyelets of lace:
a linen circle around a train,
a child, a speech,

a well, a dress, a day,
the port, the water,
the fish,

anyway, Spain,
tell me about it,
it’s been years

Kelly Corinda is a poet from New York. She recently went to Italy and put her hands in the Po River. Her work can be found in The Cossack Review, The Sugar House Review, Poetry City, USA, and elsewhere. She thinks you should write poetry too.